


The Battle of Sokovia

by tothestrongones



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst and Humor, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Clint Needs a Hug, Codependent Siblings, Making sense of Natasha/Bruce, Multi, Multiple Pov, Rated M for language, Spoilers, because i can't remember for the life of me the exact chain of events, its kind of like a bunch of vignettes rather than a full story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothestrongones/pseuds/tothestrongones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending to Age of Ultron starting in the middle of the Sokovia fight in three acts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle of Sokovia

**_“-------Barton, what’s your status?--------”_ **

 

 

“Look at me. Hey, look at me.”

He’s trying, he really is, but Clint can’t seem to get the brunette out of her own head. Crashing into someone’s evacuated home through a window is one thing. An army of robots? Eh, they’re another. But the glaring impossibility that this piece of Earth is still floating with an artificial intelligence bot sprouted from Tony’s head like a fucking biblical nod to Athena herself—that is the hand that they have been dealt with, and that is what he needs to address before drawing another arrow.

 _Sokovia is flying_ and the Avengers aren’t nearly as close to finishing the job as they should be. The com has been flying off the hook for minutes now while Tony, Steve, and himself exchange words. While the chaos ensues, there isn’t any Natasha, Bruce is missing in action, and it’s only a matter of time before it gets worse.

Actually, it already has, and it’s in the form of babysitting the very Scarlet Witch that sent their mission into the shitter in the first place.

“What have I done?” she whispers, fingers shaking as they try to grasp the Earth beneath her, the familiar – the only – stability she’s ever known. Dirt doesn’t change, bruises and blood and fists do not change, but this? This changes everything. Her home, her hopes… her brother’s safety. It’s obvious and it hurts.  _Pietro, Pietro, I am so sorry._  

“Everything is my fault.”

For Clint, it sucks. She’s not wallowing in self-pity; she’s realizing the same mistakes he fell victim to years ago when he first awoke from Loki’s spells. It’s that look of denial (did I really do this to people?) and horror (I’m a monster) he’s well-versed in, the kind that Laura woefully is used to by now from his own trembling memories lost in the bed they share together. After he returned home from the Battle of Manhattan he wasn’t the same, but neither was she and he was lucky she spent so much time catering to his recovery, of never once giving up the hope he had thrown away from himself by day one.

Clint Barton was just lucky.

But he’s a grown man with kids. He was given the chance to be happy, to see his wedding day through and to welcome his babies into the world with open arms. He’s had a steady home and a support system with Natasha, with Fury and Hill.

She’s a young woman with decades-old bags under her eyes from sleeping one eye open with her twin brother when she doesn’t even look a day over twenty-two.

“No, look at me, kid,” he tries instead, voice softening an octave. What he really should do is leave her to her own devices, but he knows a scared kid when he sees one; he knows how his daughter looks at him whenever her brother wakes with nightmares of aliens (are they really real, daddy?) and he knows that he can’t go on pretending he isn’t sympathetic.

And she looks up. Thank you, Jesus, she looks up. “I know you’re scared. The city’s flying, we’re fighting an army of robots, I have a bow and arrow—none of it makes sense. But you have to make a choice.”

“Pietro,” she murmurs, searching his gaze before staring at the shattered window. “I need—“

The wall caves with dozens of bullets aimed to kill and Wanda screams, covering her head. Clint jumps on top of her out of instinct, arms encircling her as they tense—but nothing comes. No pain, no pings from the wall.

He opens his eyes to note the faint red above and around his head, around  _her_ , and the metallic shells littering the perfect circle as a reminder.

Wanda protected them both.

So maybe she isn’t so terrible. Maybe, just maybe, he has to get it out of his damn skull that she’s bad. He straightens his back nice and tall and draws an arrow, effortlessly aiming through a small hole created by the Ultron bots. It's the shake in the foundation of the house that confirms the hit was successful.

“Pietro," he resumes nonchalantly.

“Yes, my brother,” Wanda says, the aura dissolving from her fingertips. “He’s still out there, we didn’t mean for this to happen, we were just--”

“I know. I get it. I’ll find him, but what I need you to do is decide with me.”

"Decide?"

"Yes decide, right now.”

Her brow creases, the beads of sweat dripping down the side of her face. “About what?”

Though Clint’s already regretting it, he winces and continues. “The choice I was talking about, I-- Okay, we can’t have this long discussion, so I’m going to say this: you can stay in here and not do anything, that’s fine by me. Your brother can find you, and you can go home.”

_“Oh, can we?”_

The cocky voice behind him doesn't register right away, but a hand grabs him by the collar of his uniform and all Clint sees is a faint dash of blue before he’s staring at stars on the dusty ceiling. The boy in question has his arm at his throat, hand balled in a fist as he uses the other to hold Hawkeye's bow away. Wanda stands and takes a cautious step back, eyes stuck on Clint.

“Remind me why I should not kill you right now for touching my sister.”

_“Pietro!”_

Her pleas isn't enough to deter his intentions. “The electricity, do you remember? You could have killed her. Did you think we would not retaliate?” Pietro sneers, carrying the heavy weight of anger and fear on his shoulders.

“I figured if you wanted to retaliate, Speedy Gonzales, you would have done it by now,” Clint wheezes in retort, but it’s Wanda that takes action, gently placing a hand on the white haired boy’s arm.

“No more, brother. We don’t fight him. He isn’t the enemy.” She leans in closer. Clint doesn’t move. “Not anymore.”

 _Not anymore._ The words are heavy on Pietro's heart. He’s always been the easy bleeder, so willing to take the hit if that means he gets a chance to come home to her with rounded, rosy cheeks and a lighthearted smile. This entire fight -- this entire city -- can go to Hell for all he cares, but she has to make it out of there before the rest of them. Wanda had endured too many heartaches, too much pain, for him to just walk away from the man who single-handedly tried to burn her head off and if she hadn’t stopped him, the speedster wouldn’t have had a single problem dismantling his neck from his spine, twisting it so fast that perhaps the bowman wouldn’t feel any pain. His final act of mercy.

But it isn’t what she wants. What she wants is peace. They had fought so hard to get where they are, to defy the odds and _make it_ and damn if he isn’t trying.

For her.

So Pietro lets him go, giving Clint a quick shove before tending to Wanda’s arm, that fleeting touch just to remind him she’s still in one piece.

Clint growls with a sputter and picks up his bow, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

 

**_“-------Barton, do you copy?-------”_ **

 

“I copy, Cap, give me a sec,” he spits, then points with the edge of his bow to the twins. “I screwed up, you screwed up, we’re square, but if any of us are making it out of here today? It’s gotta be together. We can’t afford to go our separate ways.” Pausing, he draws a set of triple arrows, bunching them together between his fingers. “Now are you gonna stay in here and wait it out, or are you gonna fight with the rest of us? Because the minute you step out of that door, you become an Avenger.”

And he hates that he means it, but he looks pointedly between Wanda and Pietro, giving them each a nod.

“We need you.”

Bullets grow closer as the twins stay where they are. Clint groans and pushes the door open with his back, firing arrow after arrow after arrow with every flash of metal he sees, relying on his sight and the tremors of the street beneath his feet to guide him in the fight.

“He’s right,” Wanda murmurs, and it’s the type of thing she knows Pietro doesn’t want to expect from her but does. She’s the righteous one, the savior to his sinner, and he bites the inside of his cheek as he watches the hawk attack his prey.

“We don’t owe them anything, Wanda,” he replies just as softly.

“But we owe our home,” she counters. “What we started in the first place. Together.”

 

 

 

 

 

Today is bad.

Today is very, very bad.

And as much as he loves listening to Rogers go back and forth with Barton to see which one’s funnier (newsflash, it’s actually him) Tony feels a pit of dread in the bottom of his stomach. Sokovia is going to crash in burn in mere minutes if they don’t start getting people on that damn helicarrier. (By the way: thanks for the dramatic entrance, Nicholas.)

It’s them against the world and he’s keeping up to date with F.R.I.D.A.Y., circling the bottom of this damn rock with a means of stopping the damage before it even starts. He has Steve’s words playing in the back of his mind _(you can’t attack an enemy before they show up)_ and he hates it, utterly fucking _hates_ that it has to be Cap’s righteous words playing in a mantra while he, Iron Man, tries to undo his problems.

It’s distracting, honestly, and if he wasn’t already having a hard time trying to reach Banner and Romanov, he would probably start blaring KC and the Sunshine Band to make up for his bitterness.

“How’s it look down there, guys? I haven’t heard a one liner in a long while, you doing okay?”

 

**_“-------We’re peachy, Tony.-------”_ **

 

Ah, there’s Natasha.

“Glad to have you on board, Widow. Say, there’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask about Banner—“

 

**_“-------Save it.-------”_ **

 

“ _What?_ Did you think I was going to say something PG-13? I know how this rodeo works, and with Cap on the other end, I don’t want to insult his dainty ears.”

 

**_“-------Go fuck yourself, Stark.-------”_ **

 

“Steve Rogers, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

 

 ** _“-------I second that notion, Tony.-------"_**   

 

Natasha chirps in his helmet, only reminding him he's outnumbered thanks to their new Sonny and Cher Save S.H.I.E.L.D. act.

“Fine, fine.” Gearing right, he notes the core, trying to keep a level breath. This would not be his legacy. This would _not_ be his legacy. “I was going to ask if he’s Banner or if he’s sporting the Sports Illustrated look in the European Edition this evening.”

As if on cue, a roar takes over the comm.

“Ah. Thanks for the quick answer.”

There’s the sound of another explosion before Steve picks up on the line.

 

**_“-------Are you finding anything up there? We can hold them off for a little longer, but Ultron just took Thor southeast from here.-------”_ **

 

“Nothing good. How’s the evacuations going?”

 

**_“-------They’re in progress.-------”_ **

 

“Well get them in progress a little _faster_. Barton?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Barton's a little busy right now."

Stuck between flying gizmos and gadgets, he’s doing his best to take down robots with limited ammo all while keeping civilians alive. Natasha was right; things were a _lot_ easier when the enemies were flesh and bone with blood to spare, not autoparts and machine juice that never seemed to run out. It's exhausting to keep up with because he only has two set of lungs whereas these things don't even need to breathe, and straying so far from the pack isn't doing him any good.

What he doesn’t see is the disadvantage he's got going on behind him. There's an Ultron bot that’s ready to gun him down, locked and ready on his position—

Until there’s a very certain change in the atmosphere as Wanda steps from the shadows of the abandoned house, eyes glowing red and hand outstretched to the impossibly growing army. There isn't an ounce of fear in her soul nor does her step betray a hint of hesitation. Beside her is her brother as he whips past her to take out the other direction of robots, quick in his assault and brutal in his execution. Wanda looks like she herself is under a trance, cautious as to her brother’s whereabouts as well as Clint’s, but her casting sends bots every which way.

He resumes firing, ripping arrows from fallen bots to keep the supply steady. Barton's even more surprised when he hears a brief snippet of _Here!_ and there's the male twin with several arrows in hand. Between the three of them, it takes a solid five minutes until the area's cleared, and in his modified comm he hears the banter between Steve and Natasha intensifying.

“I got the Maximoffs with me,” he states once the area is cleared.

He's about to call them over when he notices the quickster's demeanor shifting when he assumes no eyes are on him. The cocky disposition melts until a frightened little boy is stuck with his lips on his sister's forehead, pouring his heart and soul into such a small, affectionate action; Pietro tenderly aids to Wanda as he catches his breath, leaning into her as he whispers something Clint can’t quite hear from his side of the street. They hold hands, squeezing like they're the only kind of anchors they've ever known and he almost forgets they're in the middle of a war.

"Hey!" The shout brings them back to reality. "You two ready? They need our help at the church.”

Wanda nods, turning from flesh to steel right before the archer's eyes, but there’s hesitation in Pietro’s stance. He isn't ready. No matter how many times he's gone to battle for Wanda, he is never ready for the notion that some day she may stray too far and break the thin red string tied between their little fingers.

Then he answers so sure, so confident, despite the face of dread he gives Clint. "Yes, we are ready."

Yet it’s the unspoken demand Clint isn’t quite ready to swallow when Pietro nods after speaking that unsettles his nerves. It's almost like he can hear him talk in the back of his own head, and for a brief moment, he's even fearful that perhaps Wanda really did cast a spell on him in Africa.

_If I don’t make it out of here, be sure that my sister does._

He hates that he nods back.

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce is on his own now, and Natasha finally makes it to the final fight, fists clenched around the sticks of electricity charging. _I adore you._ In a rush of emotions she felt like saying that, to know that maybe one day she could have that feeling of being human. She no longer knows who she is now that her secrets are out, now that S.H.I.EL.D. has been demolished by the very foundation in which it was built upon, so it begs the question:

Who is Natasha Romanov? Who is Natalia? Who is the Black Widow?

_Who will she be now?_

She kisses him because this is her goodbye. Natasha isn’t blind; she knows she can never escape this life so long as there’s breath in her body, but God does she pretend. She pretends to fall in love, to have that euphoric rush everyone talks about. Maybe she’s lying to herself that she can have a future with Bruce or that she’s ever had romantic feelings at all, that maybe she’s gone off the deep end in using her friends (is she against that?) but it feels good for what little time they have left.

Bruce will leave and Natasha will not follow because she never intended to leave with him in the first place, but in some version of herself she could have and that is enough.

But now she knows she isn’t a starry-eyed woman who can just fall in love by picking someone out of a hat, so that version of herself dies in the ashes of the other parts of herself she’s buried, the alternate identities she can no longer go back to.

She also isn’t someone who grovels and lets someone take over the fight for her.

So she steals an armored car after a little incentive (weapons do wonders) and speeds into town running over bot after bot. As she gets closer, she notices Clint running with the Maximoffs passing him by miles and it almost makes her smile with a bittersweet afterthought. She could be dying on this rock, but Clint won’t be— after all, Fury wouldn’t have asked him to run into a firefight without the necessary precautions that were always underway.

_He will make it out of here alive whether we do or not, Agent Romanov. That’s always the plan, and it will always be the plan._

Besides, she’s okay with dying here. Death is just another stage and she can die knowing her last breath was for these civilians. The red in her ledger has faded into a light pink, and with death comes the inevitable disappearance of color altogether.

Jumping out of the armored car as she puts it in park at what once was a rusted old fence, Natasha hustles into the church as the team assembles their final rounds of ammunition. There’s a silence to it, a single prayer between the circle of superheroes that almost seems too poetic—too final. It’s the final showdown, the do-or-die situation she remembers fairly well from the Battle of Manhattan, but instead of dreading it this time around with the uncertainty of a success—

Well, Natasha knows she’s in good hands among friends.

“Sorry I’m late to the party,” she offers casually, throwing a smirk to the dirtied Captain America as he breathes heavily from his chest. He nods to salute her before adding a casual, “Nice of you to show up.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world, and besides—I was too busy trailing slowpoke over there with my truck.”

“You saw that?” Clint whines, but there isn’t enough time to fire back another witty remark before the sight of a beaming Ultron floating in mid-air stops the team in its tracks. Suddenly the air is tense for the battle to come. 

Thor is the first to speak with a roar from his chest, hammer raised in defiance _._

**_“Is that the best you can do!?”_ **

A beat passes, and the message rings loud and clear: _no_.

Of course it isn’t. They all know it isn’t, but the AI raises his hand and the sight of over a hundred bots leaves the team short-winded, including herself.

(There isn’t enough time, Romanov. There will never be enough time.)

**Author's Note:**

> Act II will be the climax/aftermath & Act III will be the epilogue, so stick around.
> 
> Kudos/Comments are much appreciated!  
> Thank you so much for reading! xx


End file.
